


Giving and Receiving

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Milking, Milking Machines, Nevactacus, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Smut, post-orgasm stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 14:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18153116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Caractacus makes a gift for Nevada, but gets more than he bargained for in return.





	Giving and Receiving

“I made you something,” Caractacus said. He was smiling, but Nevada could see the stain of embarrassment in the other man’s cheeks as Caractacus held up the invention. “I wasn’t able to make it as quiet as I wanted, especially when it, um, really gets going, so privacy could be an issue if you’re not—”

“What the fuck is it?” Nevada glared suspiciously at the plastic cylinder in Caractacus’s hands. It had a narrow, black rubber hose attached to some sort of small machine on the floor.

“It’s, um.” Caractacus shifted his feet and cleared his throat, his face flushing even darker. He had a twinkle in his eyes and a sheepish little smile on his lips, and his hair was a mess—it always was when he’d spent the day working on inventions and machines, oblivious to the passage of time—and it was all Nevada could do not to shove him over the bed and fuck him senseless. He felt himself beginning to harden at the thought. He wasn’t crazy about Caractacus having this much influence, _control_ , over his body, but it was futile to try to resist. “It’s a…milking machine, if you will,” Caractacus finally finished, watching Nevada’s face to gauge a reaction.

Nevada blinked in confusion. “The fuck are—Did you buy a cow?”

Caractacus laughed, an adorable little _giggle_ that sent a rush of blood to Nevada’s crotch and tightened the front of his jeans. He wanted Caractacus writhing beneath him, panting, moaning—and maybe he would tickle a few breathless giggles out of the man at the end, right before Caractacus made a mess all over himself.

“No,” Caractacus said. “It’s, well…you know,” he said, casting a quick glance and dip of his chin toward Nevada’s fly.

Nevada looked from the cylinder in Caractacus’s hands, to his face. “You want me to put my _dick in that thing_?” he asked incredulously.

Caractacus laughed again. He was going to have to stop doing that, or Nevada wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions. “I promise it’s safe. And I think you’ll like it.”

Nevada regarded him through narrowed eyes, and Caractacus squirmed a bit in the silence. “This your way of saying you don’t want to suck me off anymore?” Nevada finally asked.

“Of course not. You know I’ll do it all day and night if you want. But…I’m not always sure if I can, um…give you quite what you…” He cleared his throat. “This will be rougher. More…intense. There’s a hand control—” He unwound part of the coiled cord with one hand and held up the controller attached to the end. “It controls the air flow—the speed and strength of the suction. The buttons and dial are easy to…” He trailed off when he saw the speculative gleam in Nevada’s eyes.

Nevada stepped closer, and Caractacus swallowed. “Did you test this thing?” Nevada asked, his voice low and silky, and Caractacus barely suppressed a shiver.

“No, not…not _on_ someone, but…it’s…” Caractacus searched Nevada’s expression and released a slow breath. “ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered, and Nevada’s smirk stretched into a grin.

 

*       *       *

 

Nevada hadn’t sucked a dick since he was a teenager—an experience that he’d vowed to himself would _never_ happen again. He’d had his power, his choice, and his dignity stripped away from him, and he’d sworn on everything inside of himself that he would never be that powerless, that vulnerable again, that he would die first. And, he’d gotten his revenge on the sonofabitch who’d put him in that position.

Nevada pushed the memory away, because it had no place in Caractacus’s bedroom. In _their_ bedroom, which still felt like a foreign concept.

Caractacus was currently stretched out on the bed they shared. Nevada was standing beside the bed, dressed in jeans and a tank top. He dragged his gaze down the length of the other man’s naked body, and his own cock twitched inside the tight confines of his jeans. Lately, Nevada had found himself considering what it might be like to suck Caractacus, to bring him to the edge of pleasure—for the first time, Nevada _wanted_ to open up, to be vulnerable with another person, but even though he knew he could trust Caractacus, that Caractacus would never abuse any power that Nevada gave him, he simply hadn’t been able to do it yet.

But now Caractacus had unintentionally given Nevada a way to pleasure him without having to let his own guard down too far.

Caractacus wiggled on the bed. He was flushed from face to mid-chest. He was half-hard, but Nevada could sense his nervousness. Caractacus was, as always, willing and eager to please, in spite of that nervousness.

Nevada looked down at the cylinder in his hand, eyeing the latex interior. He poked a finger into the tight rubber sleeve. It was supple and had give, but once it was suctioned on? Nevada was growing harder, but he wasn’t imagining how it would feel pulsing around his own cock; he was picturing Caractacus, squirming and whimpering as this innocent-looking tube worked his erection until it was beyond spent.

“You sure this’ll fit?” he asked, wiggling his finger inside the latex.

Caractacus shifted restlessly and cleared his throat. “It’ll fit,” he said. He seemed about to say more, but didn’t, so Nevada looked at his face. Caractacus offered a smile. It was small but genuine; the man was never anything other than genuine.

“So? Do I just shove it on you?” Nevada asked.

Caractacus chuffed softly. “I’d appreciate some lube,” he said, glancing toward the nightstand. “A generous amount of lube,” he added quietly.

“And then?”

“Yeah, it goes on and then…when you turn it on it’s going to, uh…suction itself…on…” A small shiver passed through his body, and Nevada could see the gooseflesh peppering his skin. “And then it’ll…pump up and down as it simulates the sucking—”

“ _Simulates the sucking_ ,” Nevada mocked, not unkindly. “Such dirty language.”

“The dial controls the compressor speed—the vacuum.”

“It won’t just…fall off?”

“It’ll stay on if I don’t thrash around too much,” Caractacus laughed.

“Should I tie you down?” Nevada asked, watching the other man’s face for signs of unease as Caractacus considered the suggestion.

“If you’d like,” Caractacus finally said, shifting again.

Nevada couldn’t even bring himself to suck Caractacus’s dick because he would feel too vulnerable while doing it, and yet Caractacus was willing to put himself completely at Nevada’s mercy. Nevada wasn’t sure what he’d ever done to earn the other man’s trust.

Nevada eyed the iron rails of the headboard. “Hold onto the bars,” he said, watching as Caractacus obediently raised his arms and wrapped his fingers around the cool metal rods. “You think you can be good and not let go?”

“I’ll do my best,” Caractacus promised.

“ _Sí_ ,” Nevada said, “you always do, _Chiflado_.” He saw Caractacus’s chin tip up at the slight praise, saw his eyes darken. So eager to please. So happy to be complimented. Nevada wasn’t used to doling out sincere compliments, but he was going to make an effort to praise Caractacus more often. Caractacus deserved it.

Nevada set the cylinder—an actual cocksucker, although Nevada didn’t think Caractacus would willingly relinquish his title of _mamón_ —on the bed beside Caractacus’s leg and fetched the bottle of lubrication from the nightstand. He moved to the edge of the bed, cocking a hip. His jeans were well-worn, but the denim was still rough against his erection. He reached out, holding the bottle over Caractacus, and dribbled lube along the length of his cock. Caractacus watched from beneath heavy lids, unmoving.

Nevada picked up the cylinder and squirted lubrication into the latex sleeve. After a moment’s consideration, he added another squeeze before closing the bottle and tossing it onto the nightstand with a clatter. He looked at Caractacus’s semi-erection. It was glistening with streaks of lubrication, but he wasn’t fully hard, yet.

As though reading his mind, Caractacus said, “I think I’m hard enough for it to slide on, and as soon as it starts sucking—” He broke off when Nevada moved.

Nevada leaned forward over the bed. His jeans pinched his erection, and he rubbed his palm against his own crotch, taking a couple of seconds to relish the pain. He knew that Caractacus didn’t enjoy pain, although he was willing to endure quite a bit of it without complaint.

Nevada wrapped his hand around Caractacus’s cock, pulling it away from his stomach to give it several slow, twisting strokes, spreading the lubrication. Caractacus flexed his feet and tightened his grip on the headboard, but otherwise kept himself still. Nevada paused for a moment, then gave a couple of quick, hard jerks. Caractacus’s breathing hitched, but he didn’t move. He was growing in Nevada’s hand, and Nevada smiled, running the pad of his thumb over Caractacus’s tip before releasing him.

Grabbing up the cylinder, Nevada said, “You sure you trust this thing not to eat your dick off?”

“I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t know it was safe,” Caractacus answered.

“Hmm.” Nevada lifted Caractacus’s lubricated cock with a finger and lined up the opening of the tube. The head of Caractacus’s erection disappeared into the soft, rubbery base. Nevada could see through the clear plastic of the cylinder, could see the latex interior stretching around the other man’s cock. He slid it down slowly until he met resistance. Even with the lube, the latex was tight. Nevada paused and twisted the tube a little.

“You can push it down,” Caractacus said.

“Don’t be impatient,” Nevada answered, giving Caractacus a brief glare.

Caractacus wasn’t intimidated, and said, “It won’t hurt me. It’s tight, but it’ll—”

Nevada pushed the tube down quickly and without warning; the latex swallowed Caractacus’s erection with a squelching sound and the soft rubber base hit his balls, flattening them briefly before Nevada eased up.

Caractacus gasped in surprise, his whole body jerking. “Holy God—”

“I tell you all the time, you talk too much,” Nevada said, and Caractacus smashed his lips together to shut himself up. “Do I need to gag you?” Caractacus shook his head on the pillow. “That’s better,” Nevada said. “This gonna stay on if I let go?” he asked, because the tube slid an inch up Caractacus’s shaft when Nevada loosened his grip. Caractacus nodded. Nevada let go slowly, making sure the thing was going to stay in place. It did, the base keeping it at a forty-five-degree angle over Caractacus’s stomach.

Nevada picked up the controller and stepped back from the bed, giving himself a little bit of space so he could fully appreciate Caractacus’s reactions. Caractacus was watching him, so Nevada made a point of holding up the controller so that the other man could see him pressing the button to start the machine.

There was a hiss of air, and a quiet _thump_ sound, and the cylinder started moving. Caractacus’s toes curled for a moment, then flexed as he forced himself to relax. His eyes opened as soon as he realized they’d slipped closed, and he looked up at Nevada; Nevada was watching the machine, though, fascinated by the rhythmic pumping—both the vertical movement along Caractacus’s shaft, and the tightening/releasing of the latex sleeve, visible through the clear tube. Nevada could see it molding itself to Caractacus’s cock with each suck of air—he could see the outline clearly, could actually see Caractacus growing within the confines.

“Huh,” Nevada said. “How long’d it take you to make this?”

“Most of the day,” Caractacus answered.

“You started this _today_?” Nevada asked, looking at the other man’s flushed face. Caractacus nodded. He was holding himself admirably still—but the machine was working slowly. Nevada was going to have Caractacus squirming in no time, and they both knew it. Nevada tipped his head, searching the other man’s gaze. “How’s it feel?” he asked softly.

Caractacus cleared his throat. “It’s, uh…”

“Good?” Nevada suggested, amused.

“Yes,” Caractacus said, but the affirmation was hesitant. He didn’t say _but_ , although he might as well have. Nevada heard it in his voice and waited, silently commanding Caractacus to speak his mind. Caractacus dampened his lips with his tongue and glanced down at the cylinder that was slowly massaging his erection. “It’s just that…um…”

“Now you’re at a loss for words all the sudden?” Nevada teased.

“I haven’t…It’s been…” He didn’t want to say it. Nevada could make him—and with very little effort; all he’d have to do was tell the man to spit it out, and Caractacus would oblige.

But it was unnecessary, because Nevada suddenly understood. With understanding came an unwelcome stab of guilt, but he tamped it down quickly. Even if he felt like offering an apology—which he didn’t—Caractacus would be horrified to hear one, and then _he_ would apologize for making Nevada feel guilty, and the whole conversation would be tiring and annoying. No, Nevada wasn’t going to apologize, but he did silently curse himself for not realizing sooner.

Caractacus hadn’t had sex since his wife’s death. When he and Nevada were together, Caractacus always came one of two ways: prostate stimulation—Nevada fucking the cum out of him—or, if that didn’t quite push him over the edge, jerking himself off. Nevada didn’t really have a preference. He liked knowing that Caractacus could come from nothing more than the feeling of Nevada’s cock inside his ass, but he also enjoyed making the man get himself off while Nevada watched.

And Caractacus had never issued any complaints, of course. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t complaining _now_. He was warning Nevada that he might come too quickly, because it had been a long time since he’d had anything other than his own fingers working his shaft. He was _apologetic_ about it. He’d never meant for this contraption to be used on him, he’d built it for Nevada—to give Nevada pleasure while asking for nothing in return, because Caractacus was afraid he wasn’t enough for the other man; that he wasn’t rough enough to fully meet Nevada’s desires.

Nevada put his thumb and forefinger on the dial and held Caractacus’s stare for a moment. The only sounds in the room were the pneumatic hisses and hums from the machine. “Close your eyes,” Nevada finally commanded in a quiet voice.

Caractacus’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he closed his eyes without hesitation.

“Don’t hold back, _Chiflado_ ,” Nevada said in a low voice. Caractacus shook his head against the pillow. “I mean it,” Nevada said, with a little more edge. He turned the dial slowly, and the cylinder picked up speed. “ _Entender?_ ” When Caractacus nodded, Nevada ordered: “Say it.”

“I understand. I won’t hold back,” Caractacus murmured, adjusting his hips. His knuckles were already white around the bars of the headboard. “But—”

“Hush,” Nevada said, and Caractacus immediately fell silent. Nevada turned the dial, testing the controls. He turned it all the way up, and the cylinder moved so quickly that he was surprised it didn’t fly right off and land on Caractacus’s face. It seemed to have a pretty good grip; it pumped up and down the man’s cock so quickly that Nevada could barely keep track of the movement, the inner sleeve pulsing and sucking at Caractacus’s flesh.

The muscles in Caractacus’s arms were bunched, rippling as he held the bars with all of his strength, keeping his hips—for now—firmly planted on the bed. His toes were curling and relaxing, curling and relaxing. Nevada smiled and turned the dial down, slowing the machine until it was barely moving, barely sucking.

“You could get rich off these,” Nevada said. He lowered a hand to rub at his own crotch again. The tightness had grown nearly unbearable. He squeezed himself a few times, shifting his feet on the floor. “I could get rich selling _you_.” Caractacus made a sound—a mixture of humor and indulgence, both overpowered by his arousal; he was trying so hard to be accommodating, but he was preoccupied, and Nevada smiled again. “Hey,” he said.

“Hmm,” Caractacus answered, the hum rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Look what you did.”

Caractacus cracked an eye, cautiously. He glanced over himself, and the milker slowly sucking at his cock, and then looked at Nevada, his gaze immediately finding Nevada’s hand at his crotch. He made a low keening sound in his throat, and the involuntary noise brought an unexpected rush of precum to the tip of Nevada’s cock. Nevada made an involuntary sound of his own and gave himself another hard squeeze.

“No, I’m not letting anyone get their hands on you,” Nevada said, moving his fingers back to the dial. When Caractacus met his eyes again, Nevada said, “You’re my little secret, _sí, Chiflado_?” Caractacus nodded. “ _Sólo mío_ , right?” Caractacus nodded again, his hair rubbing the pillow as he stared at Nevada. “Say it,” Nevada told him.

“Only yours,” Caractacus breathed.

“You need more lube?”

Caractacus shook his head. He knew what was coming, and he was doing his best to prepare himself. When Nevada told him to close his eyes again, he obeyed immediately. Nevada turned the dial slowly up to the halfway mark. He watched the rise and fall of Caractacus’s stomach, the movement of his feet, the bunching muscles in his arms as he adjusted his grip on the bars, the sweat that had begun to trickle into the hollow of Caractacus’s throat…

Nevada unsnapped his jeans and lowered the zipper with one hand, wincing at the bite of tiny teeth against his sensitive skin. He knew that Caractacus heard the sound of the zipper even over the sound of the machine, even over his own desire, by the way his chin turned ever so slightly toward Nevada. He kept his eyes closed, with a respectable show of restraint.

Nevada freed himself with a small sigh of relief.

Caractacus shifted his hips, pressing his heels into the bed.

“You getting close?”

“I—Yes, but—”

“You gonna ask before you come?”

“Mmhmm.”

“ _Qué_?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy,” Nevada said for the sole purpose of hearing Caractacus’s answering groan. Nevada smiled. He felt another dribble of precum leak from his own cock, but he didn’t bother touching himself. “What’s this other button do?”

“Huh? Oh. Um.” Caractacus squirmed, trying to concentrate. “Makes it vibrate, the ring on the— _Jesus_ ,” he said, his back arching off the bed when Nevada hit the button with his thumb. “ _Oh, God_ —” Caractacus pressed his lips together to stop talking, but he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped his throat.

“What?” Nevada asked, adding a generous dose of insolence to the word for Caractacus’s benefit.

“Please,” Caractacus said.

“Please?”

“Yeah,” Caractacus answered, and Nevada laughed.

“Please, what?”

“I don’t know— _fuck_ ,” he gasped when Nevada cranked the dial to its limit without warning. Caractacus was panting, writhing on the bed as he struggled desperately to keep himself from thrusting. Nevada was surprised he hadn’t bent the metal bars, yet.

“Such a filthy mouth,” Nevada admonished.

“ _Ahh_ ,” Caractacus said. “Please—”

“You leaking in there?” Caractacus made a strangled sound that was meant to be an affirmation. “Excuse me?”

“ _Yesss_ ,” Caractacus said. “Nevada, I can’t—” He cut himself off and shook his head on the pillow.

“You can’t?” Nevada laughed. Caractacus shook his head again. “I think you can, _Chiflado_.”

“Please—Nevada—”

“Use your fucking words.”

“Vibration,” Caractacus gasped.

Nevada hit the button with his thumb, turning off the vibration, and Caractacus released a shaky breath even though the cylinder was still pumping his cock at the highest speed. “Why didn’t you say so?” Nevada said.

“Sorry,” Caractacus managed. He adjusted his sweaty grip on the bars. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his flushed skin glistening with perspiration. His hips were moving in spite of his efforts at self-control. “Please, may I—”

Nevada turned the machine off with a tap of his finger.

Caractacus let out a surprised sound, full of frustration, and shifted his legs restlessly. He took a deep breath. “Sorry,” he repeated as he exhaled.

“Don’t say sorry again,” Nevada said sharply. Caractacus’s eyes fluttered open in surprise and found Nevada’s dark stare. Caractacus blinked as sweat trickled into his eyes. He let go of one of the bars long enough to swipe the perspiration from his brow, and then he wrapped his fingers around the metal again. He searched Nevada’s face, trying to determine whether or not the other man was upset with him. Nevada waited a few beats longer, until the fog of thwarted-orgasm-frustration had cleared from Caractacus’s brain, and then asked, “You want to come, _Chiflado_?”

Caractacus nodded. Then, reading Nevada’s raised eyebrows, said, “Yes.”

“Without this?” Nevada asked, pointing at the button that turned on the additional vibration.

Caractacus bit his lip and nodded again. His gaze slipped down to Nevada’s cock, hanging out of his jeans. Nevada didn’t have to look to know he was dripping on the floor. Caractacus swallowed.

“Focus,” Nevada said, and the other man’s eyes returned to his. “Ready?”

Caractacus managed a laugh, and Nevada found himself smiling like an idiot in response. Caractacus let go of the bars and lowered his arms, giving his hands a couple of quick shakes to get his blood flowing. He rolled his shoulders, let out a breath, and grabbed the bars again. “Yes,” he said. He watched as Nevada turned the dial down before hitting the button, so that it wouldn’t start up on high speed.

Nevada didn’t bother making him close his eyes again. He pushed the button, and the cylinder started moving, resuming its slow sucking motion. He turned the dial slowly, stopping just past the halfway mark. He ran his gaze over Caractacus’s body, cataloguing every twitch and jerk and shiver.

“Nevada—please.”

“Yeah?”

“May I—may I come—”

“Say my name when you come, _Chiflado_.”

“Oh—God,” Caractacus said, his biceps bunching. He dug a heel into the mattress and arched his back, lifting his hips from the bed.

“Don’t make me—”

“ _Nevada_ ,” Caractacus blurted desperately before Nevada could finish the warning. “Jesus God—”

Nevada cranked the dial to high, and Caractacus bucked, letting out a string of curses that Nevada doubted the man had ever said before in his life. Nevada reached down and gave himself a few strokes, unable to resist. He was close, too—embarrassingly close; he couldn’t actually get off simply from _watching_ Caractacus buck and writhe, could he?

Caractacus let go of the bars with one hand and dug his elbow into the mattress, giving himself more leverage as his body continued to twist and buck. Nevada released himself, alarmed by the powerful rush of precum that pulsed from his cock. He didn’t dare free his balls from the constricting bite of denim; he would probably come all over the fucking room.

“Nevada,” Caractacus breathed.

Nevada turned the dial down to the halfway mark. Caractacus’s body dropped back to the bed, but he let out a little whimper, continuing to squirm. Nevada didn’t relent, letting the machine work the man’s cock well past the point of orgasm.

Nevada walked over to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of lube, flicking it open with the pad of his thumb. He dribbled a generous dose onto his own throbbing erection and returned the bottle to the nightstand. Caractacus’s eyes were scrunched shut, and he was clutching the bedspread with both hands—seemingly unaware that he’d let go of the headboard.

He didn’t see or hear Nevada walk to the foot of the bed, or shove his jeans down to mid-thigh. Nevada fought back his own orgasm by a sheer force of will. He stood for a moment, watching the cylinder pump Caractacus’s over-sensitized cock. Then he set the controller on the mattress and grabbed Caractacus’s ankles.

Caractacus’s eyes snapped open in surprise. Nevada pulled his legs, sliding him quickly down the bed until his ass was at the edge. “Jesus, Nevada, please,” Caractacus said on something close to a sob.

Nevada snatched up the controller. “Please yes, or please no?” he asked, turning the dial to the lowest setting.

“Please yes—I think,” Caractacus panted. He tried to help when Nevada shoved his legs up, but his muscles were weak, trembling. Nevada hooked the other man’s legs over his shoulders, but one immediately slipped down his arm. Caractacus’s body was slick with sweat. It didn’t matter—one leg up was enough. Nevada wrapped his arm around Caractacus’s thigh, clutching the controller in that hand, and ran two fingers of his other hand over his own cock, stealing some of the lubricant. He pushed his fingers into Caractacus’s ass and Caractacus bucked against the cylinder, whimpering.

Nevada stroked his fingers over the other man’s prostate and Caractacus convulsed, crying out.

“Please—” he sobbed.

He’d _been_ saying _please_ , but Nevada heard the difference this time; he heard the desperation, and he hit the button with his thumb, silencing the machine.

“Oh thank God,” Caractacus mumbled. Nevada dropped the controller and grabbed the tube, pulling it up. It moved without resistance—filled not just with lubrication, but all of Caractacus’s ejaculate, now—and slipped free from Caractacus’s body. His cock sprang back, hitting his stomach with a wet slap as cum dribbled out of the cylinder, spattering his skin.

Nevada set the cylinder and controller aside. He waited until the other man had managed to focus on his face.

“Yes,” Caractacus repeated. Nevada could feel the inventor’s whole body trembling, heaving. “Come inside me,” Caractacus begged, and Nevada’s cock twitched in response. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to get inside before spilling himself. He pulled his fingers from Caractacus’s ass and pushed against his thigh, levering his hip up. Nevada lined himself up, groaning as his flared head slipped past Caractacus’s rim.

“Christ, _Chiflado_ ,” he breathed.

Caractacus reached out with both hands, clutching at Nevada—his arm, his hip—and said, “Kiss me—please, Nevada.”

Nevada was surprised, but he hesitated only a moment. He leaned forward, and Caractacus lifted himself up as best he could; he was bent in half, unable to breathe, but he met Nevada’s kiss eagerly, grabbing at his hair to keep him from retreating. Nevada flexed his hips, filling Caractacus with one quick thrust, and swallowed his whimper.

Nevada came almost instantly, but he continued to move slowly as he pulsed inside of the other man’s body. Caractacus shuddered with every slow brush against his prostate, and a few final drops of cum beaded on the dark head of his cock—unnoticed by either man.

Nevada turned his face from Caractacus’s, gasping for breath, and dropped his forehead onto the other man’s shoulder. Caractacus wrapped his arms around him. Nevada carefully shifted his hips backward, pulling himself free from Caractacus’s ass. He pushed Caractacus’s leg down and then collapsed against him, letting their bodies heave in unison for several seconds.

“Well,” Caractacus finally said. “It’s tested, now.” He laughed breathlessly beneath Nevada. “And I don’t want to sound too egotistical, but it—” He stopped when Nevada lifted his head to look at him.

“You’re enough, _Chiflado_ ,” Nevada said quietly. He saw Caractacus swallow, saw his expression soften as he recognized Nevada’s sincerity, but it wasn’t enough. Nevada knew he owed Caractacus more, even if Caractacus wouldn’t ask for it. Nevada shook his head. “No, that’s not—You’re more than—You’re all I want. All I _need_. I’m…not good at saying…”

“That’s alright, I talk enough for both of us,” Caractacus said with a smile. “Nevada, this is hurting my back—”

“Shit, _lo siento_ ,” Nevada blurted, levering himself up. “Are you okay?”

Caractacus pushed himself further up the bed with shaky limbs and sank back into the mattress. He held out a hand, reaching for Nevada, and Nevada crawled up beside him, flopping over onto his back. He was still wearing his tank top, and his jeans were still around his thighs. Caractacus immediately rolled toward him, throwing an arm over his chest and snuggling against his side.

“You’re making a mess all over me,” Nevada said.

“Shove me off, then,” Caractacus murmured, laying his cheek on Nevada’s chest.

“Hmm,” Nevada answered as though he were actually considering it. He ran his fingers through Caractacus’s sweaty hair. “I guess, since you do the laundry…”

Caractacus chuckled, the vibration traveling the length of Nevada’s body. “Your secret’s safe with me, Nevada.”

“What secret?” Nevada asked, even though he knew what Caractacus meant. He felt a nervous flutter in his stomach and did his best to squash the sensation.

Caractacus flattened a palm over Nevada’s heart. “Don’t worry, I’ll even keep it safe from you until you’re ready,” he murmured.

Nevada hesitated a moment, and then settled his arm around Caractacus’s shoulders. “Thanks,” he muttered, but he couldn’t manage to fake any sarcasm. He swallowed, and asked, “You feel okay?” He felt Caractacus’s cheek shift against his chest as he smiled.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said quietly.

“No vibration next time,” Nevada said, earning another quiet laugh from the other man.

“No,” Caractacus agreed, pressing tighter against Nevada. “Although I still think _you’d_ like it.”

“Hm, well. You would know,” Nevada said.

“On second thought, I don’t want _you_ to use that thing. Then you won’t need me anymore.”

“Ridiculous,” Nevada said. He knew that Caractacus was fishing for compliments.

“You don’t know how intense it is. It could easily replace—”

“It couldn’t replace you.”

“No?” Caractacus asked after a moment of silence.

“No _risilla_ ,” Nevada said.

Caractacus lifted his head to look at the other man’s face. He scowled at the sight of Nevada’s smirk. “I don’t _giggle_ ,” he objected.

Nevada tickled Caractacus’s ribs before quickly pulling his head down, swallowing a very distinct giggle.

 


End file.
